


Solace

by ficteer



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: M/M, abe learning how much he loves giving blow jobs, an astoundingly inappropriate but highly enthusiastic usage of a baseball diamond, pre domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficteer/pseuds/ficteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last begets the first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

  
It’s not strange to see the tears welling up in Mihashi’s eyes. After three years of forming half of a battery with the boy, Abe Takaya was no stranger to the particular shade of hazel Mihashi’s eyes became when he was crying. It’s not the way Mihashi bites his lip in some futile attempt to keep the hiccups from coming out, or the way he refuses to meet Abe’s gaze, or the way the tips of his ears turn pink as his shoulders quake with emotion. Especially today, the last day of their high school journey together, on the baseball diamond that had brought them together almost three years ago, Abe is not surprised to see this expression on Mihashi’s face.

But the clasp of fingers on Abe’s shirt is new, Abe thinks. A jolt goes through his system when Mihashi’s grasp tightens, pulls - he’s so strong, a fact easy to forget with the blond’s still-small frame. And then Abe is left to stare blankly at the baseball diamond over Mihashi’s shoulder, because that tear-streaked face is no longer in front of him, but rather smothered in his shoulder. He’s shaking, and even before he realizes what’s happening, Abe feels his hands raise to grasp Mihashi’s elbows tightly in a calming gesture. Calm Mihashi down, soothe him, protect him, watch over him; every cell in his body instinctively moves to complete these tasks, even as his mind slowly catches up to what’s happening. Mihashi Ren is crying, but for the first time, he doesn’t sink into himself. Solace is, apparently, to be found in Abe today.

Abe closes his eyes and turns his face into Mihashi’s hair, lightly tracing his fingers over Mihashi’s firm triceps in soft strokes, one abandoning the motion to follow the curve of Mihashi’s skull. As he forces his own body to relax and curve slightly into Mihashi’s, Abe closes his eyes and wonders if he can let himself read into this motion as much as his thundering heart demands, wonders if he can really believe that somehow Mihashi finds more comfort in his shoulder than his own hands, if Mihashi crying on Abe’s shoulder is more cathartic now than his usual habit of crying into his knees.

Hands snake to his back, and Abe feels the heavy weight of Mihashi’s palms against his shoulder blades just before that pitcher grasp pulls his shirt. He’s shaking even more, somehow, and Abe feels his brows furrow at the thought. This was wrong; he was supposed to be comforting Mihashi, but he wasn’t doing something right. He wasn’t doing enough, not if the shivers he can feel and the quivering shoulders in his embrace are any indication. And so, Abe goes further, stomach coiled with desperation to console his pitcher. He rakes his hand through Mihashi’s hair again, cradles his head into his neck, his other hand dropping to Mihashi’s side to rise and fall in comforting lines. He closes his eyes and presses his lips to Mihashi’s temple, once, then twice, then again and again until he loses count of each caress. 

He parts his lips and exhales light shushes, using the hand on Mihashi’s side to pull him into Abe’s warmth. They were pressed tightly together now, hip to collarbone, and Abe forces a groan down his throat before trailing his lips over Mihashi’s flushed skin. This was no time for whatever romantic inclinations had festered in his heart over the three years they’d been a battery, not when Mihashi was coming to him, needy and - yeah, okay, no. Abe swallowed around the knot high in his throat, turning to his meditative practice and focusing Mihashi, not the sharp sting of arousal crawling up the back of his neck.

And so he does. He feels the sweat curling on the hair at the nape of Mihashi’s neck, traces the line of his spine down to where it disappears beneath his collared shirt, then back up, again and again over each bump of bone. He memorizes the different texture of Mihashi’s shirt and his belt, letting his wrist brush over the latter to appreciate the leather he could see Mihashi donning in his mind’s eye. He was always clumsy with them, having to take an extra ten seconds or so to fix them when they twisted in the loops. 

Abe keeps his eyes closed, burying his face in Mihashi’s hair and inhaling gently. He used a generic shampoo, one without much scent, but this close, Abe could pick up on the hint of soap and a bit of Tajima’s cologne from where the cleanup applied it next to him. He exhales reverently, then tilts his head and presses his lips again to Mihashi’s forehead. There’s a slight sheen of sweat from the heat of the late afternoon, a taste of salt that lingers almost imperceptibly on his mouth when he pulls back, but another shiver down Mihashi’s spine brings him to linger once again. More comfort, he still wasn’t doing it right, not if Mihashi was still trembling and pressing closer with his feet shuffling and his hips angling to stand between Abe’s feet and -

…Ah. Abe stills, and he opens his eyes but sees only Mihashi’s hair and his quivering body. He focuses his ears, and it occurs to him that Mihashi hadn’t sobbed in a while, and his normal hiccups were absent. He frowns deeply as embarrassment rakes over every inch of his skin, because Mihashi’s clasp on his shirt gets even tighter (how did he  _manage_  - ?) and suddenly everything makes sense. 

“Takaya.” Abe melts into the word, unable to stop himself from pressing another kiss to Mihashi’s forehead. It’s not the first time Mihashi has called him by name; almost the whole team had gotten on first name basis gradually along the second year, but it was always different when it was his lips curling around the syllables. It’s whispered again into his collarbone, where Mihashi’s wet tears had stopped spilling and were instead replaced with shivers of what Abe prayed was the same running through him. Abe parts his lips against Mihashi’s skin, wanting to reciprocate, wanting to console and comfort, but all he can manage is a desperate  _Ren_  that tastes as lewd on his tongue as it sounds to his ears. It’s not even an issue of wanting Mihashi anymore - it’s an issue of  _need,_ and Abe finds himself almost vibrating against Mihashi when the fingers on his back loosen their death grip on his shirt and move.

Mihashi’s hands drag heavy lines to the small of his back, every inch seared through his shirt onto his skin, and when they settle on his hips, Abe feels his fingers clench in Mihashi’s hair. He’s too hot, the sun still stubbornly beating down during its last hours in the sky, the hard body pressed against his from knee to neck, Mihashi’s erection blatant and so close to his own that his mouth goes dry and it hurts to swallow. And then Mihashi straightens his spine, and his eyes, puffy and red, blink before meeting Abe’s, and not for the first time he finds himself stunned by Mihashi’s eyes, the curve of his mouth, the flush on his face that was spreading down his throat past where he’s swallowing heavily.

And then, ice settles in his spine as Mihashi pushes him away. This is it, he’s messed up not only at comforting his pitcher, but he’s overstepped his boundaries and completely misread the situation, everything was ruined and - and then Mihashi’s close again, nose brushing against Abe’s as his eyelids drift and close, lips parting as now he’s the one whispering calming nothings. His hands are warm, tracing up Abe’s sides, then over his chest, then cupping his shoulders, and the pressure continues until Abe takes another step back. He does as Mihashi commands, absolutely lost until a shadow falls over his gaze and he realizes what’s going on. Heat blooms in his gut, and his rigid spine loosens. Mihashi had been pushing them into the dugout, one step away from the diamond at a time. Abe lifts his hands to grab Mihashi’s elbows, entranced by the way Mihashi had been the one to push  _him_ , guiding him down the few steps until they’re as safe from prying eyes as they can be on the baseball field. Licking his lips, Abe grips Mihashi’s arms and pulls now, leading backwards until he feels the wall of the dugout pressing hard against his back. 

“Ren,” he whispers, releasing Mihashi’s arms and instead cupping his jaw, pressing their foreheads together so he can feel Mihashi’s breath mixing with his own. His chest expands with each breath, until he feels so full with emotion that he feels almost dizzy. Mihashi’s hands grasp his wrists, almost painfully tight, and then Abe opens his eyes to see Mihashi staring at him with what could only be called awe. He knows because he can feel the same sensation inside himself, something incredible that causes a smile to bloom onto his face.

“I want to kiss Takaya,” Mihashi breaths, voice hushed almost like he can’t believe that he’s saying it, or that this is happening. His hands move, releasing Abe’s wrists and instead covering Abe’s hands on his jaw, mingling their fingers together even as his body leans closer and shares a bit of its warmth with Abe’s. “I want to kiss you.”

Yes, God yes, Abe thinks, nodding once because what the hell was he supposed to say to that?  _Yes, absolutely, please kiss me,_  or perhaps  _well considering I’ve been wanting to kiss you since our first year I think it’s safe to say I feel the same,_  as well as a touch of  _Ren you idiot this is our high school baseball diamond couldn’t you decide to do this in a place with a touch more privacy?!_  Mihashi gets that glittery look in his eyes, his lips pressing together as a smile curls them, and with a desperate groan, Abe leans in because Mihashi is obviously too star-struck to do anything.

He’d often thought about what it would feel like to kiss Mihashi, but compared to the actual act, he’d fallen far short. His lips are slightly chapped, but they meld against his and  _move_ , caressing his own with fond affection and a slight exhale of satisfaction that has Abe’s toes curling in his shoes. He slides his hands into Mihashi’s hair, using his hold to tilt the jaw between his sweaty palms, and then he’s shuddering helplessly because Mihashi steps forward and weaves his fingers into Abe’s belt loops to pull their bodies so close he can feel every inch of mixed heat. 

Abe swallows a gasp of Ren’s name on the back of his throat, unwilling to part even if it meant he could hear Mihashi purr his name again. And then, Mihashi’s lips part for a breath, and Abe can taste the punch from their post-season party on his breath, and he wonders for an instant what it would taste like before he curls his tongue on Mihashi’s lower lip to find out. Mihashi’s tongue is curious and shy, just as he’s sure his is to him, but as he feels Mihashi’s hands grasp his sides with strong fingers, they both get bolder. Abe feels his body swaying gently, and they’re both moving, arching against one another, messy puffs of air from between their slick kisses. And then - “ _Takaya_ …!” - and Abe feels a tight string snap, whatever had been holding him back is lost when Mihashi’s fingers find Abe’s belt and pulls, the silent plea for more all Abe can think about.

He breaks the sloppy kiss and looks at Mihashi’s face, hoping that the image of plump wet lips and flushed cheekbones is forever seared into his mind. His thought is to break them apart long enough to get his pants off, but he blinks and finds himself sucking Mihashi’s neck, tongue running over the tendons and feeling each of Mihashi’s answering groans beneath his teeth. He’s into biting, then, Abe files away, breathing heavily into Mihashi’s ear as he fights his belt. His hands are shaking, and Mihashi’s aren’t helping with the way they’re trembling on top of his, but eventually he gets it loose and the jingle of metal in his ears followed by the audible zipper sounds filthy and delicious. 

Mihashi wastes no time taking his fingers from the hair curling at the bottom of Abe’s shirt and dipping below to explore, and the first touch of fingers against his cock has Abe’s head flying back into the brick wall. His teeth clench together as every blood vessel in his body blooms to make him flushed, his heart pounding against his ribcage as electricity follows each curious stroke Mihashi makes. Abe grips his right hand in Mihashi’s hair, pulling at his nape until Mihashi tumbles forward into a kiss that’s tongue and teeth and every groan Abe ever smothered in three years of showering next to his crush. He runs his tongue over the roof of Mihashi’s mouth, and he shivers with the sudden knowledge that he just really wants Mihashi’s dick pressing on the back of his throat, he needs to be on his knees right fucking now with those pitching fingers telling his head exactly where to go.

Abe breaks the kiss, and wonders for a moment if Mihashi read his mind as the blond removes his hand from Abe’s pants. He clings to the hem of his button shirt and pulls it over his head, exposing a body more honed than it had been in their first year but still impossibly lean for someone with as much strength as he had. Abe feels the laughter bubble up when Mihashi squeaks because he’s stuck, and he lets it escape, lets all of the tension he’d ever held go, as he reaches his hands forward and stops Mihashi’s struggling.

“You forgot to undo the buttons at the top, Ren,” he says, his voice low and uneven even to his own ears. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to get the shirt over Mihashi’s head, showing a pitcher that looks both embarrassed and also a little amused. Abe feels the warmth grow in his chest, and he can’t stop himself from lifting a hand and idly tracing the tan line where his baseball uniform hid his upper arm from the sun. The humor slowly dies, replaced by an affection that almost swallows the intense arousal still humming just beneath his skin. It gets worse when Mihashi softly whispers his name, and Abe looks from his hand to see Mihashi’s eyes welling up with tears again. 

When Mihashi’s hands lift and fall onto Abe’s chest, his fingers follow the line of buttons down, his breathing hitching in his chest when Abe jolts from the contact. He twists his wrists at each button, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to each inch of skin as its exposed. Abe lets a hand rest on Mihashi’s head, his eyelids feeling heavy as he watches each movement of Mihashi’s kisses and swallows as the blond adds tongue. When he has the last button parted, he runs his hands under the flaps from Abe’s chest up to his shoulders, eyes smoldering as he tastes Abe’s collarbone and lets the shirt trickle out of his hold. Abe shivers as he hears it hit the ground in a soft pile, feels the goosebumps rise with each swipe of Mihashi’s tongue over his skin. He lets his hands rise, touches Mihashi’s back, and pulls, pulls until their chests are pressed together, noses rubbing together and breath mixing. Mihashi’s hands explore Abe’s sides even as Abe traces the muscles flexing around Mihashi’s shoulder blades, until he looks at Mihashi’s mouth and remembers the slick heat. Leaning forward, he takes Mihashi’s lower lip between his teeth and drags gently as he takes his short nails and rakes gentle lines down Mihashi’s back. His pitcher lets loose a noise that Abe almost sobs to hear, rocking his hips forward in desperate need for contact.

His hands on Mihashi’s hips, Abe slowly brings his lips down Mihashi’s neck, kissing and sucking and gently nibbling, each inch until Mihashi’s breath catches in his throat and his hands settle on Abe’s shoulders. When Abe feels the dusty floor of the dugout beneath his knees, he presses his face into Mihashi’s stomach and groans with the need pounding through his whole body. His hands go around and cup Mihashi’s ass, grabbing and squeezing and enjoying the way Mihashi’s fingers swoop into his hair and tug lightly with a stutter of his name on his lips.

Abe traces Mihashi’s hipbones with reverent fingertips before he gets to the belt holding the pants on Mihashi’s thin hips. It’s a lot easier to get Mihashi’s undone, as the pitcher is preoccupied with petting Abe’s hair, but his stomach still twists in time with the button on Mihashi’s pants, and the slow drag of the zipper, the feeling dropping into the bottom of his gut as he tugged Mihashi’s pants to his knees. Mihashi’s boxers do nothing to hide his erection, and Abe groans to see the wetspot that scents of precum. He smothers the sound in the fabric, earning a tug on his hair and Mihashi’s incomprehensible mumbles as he mouths Mihashi though the cotton. He nuzzles it, then pulls down the last bit of clothing. He swallows around the empty feeling in his mouth, looking up to see Mihashi’s eyes hot and half-lidded in his flushed face. Probably seeing some unasked question in Abe’s eyes, Mihashi nods once, jerkily, petting the hair beneath his fingers awkwardly.

The first taste of Mihashi’s cock is hot. He feels the groan tumble out of his chest before he hears it, one hand lifting to grasp Mihashi’s hip as the other fell to the base to help him get positioned right. It’s every bit as good as he’d thought it would be, Abe thinks, sucking as he pulls back and lathing his tongue over every cell of skin he can find. Mihashi groans and clutches his head, his pitching fingers finding the curve of Abe’s skull and guiding him, pushing Abe further onto his cock until Mihashi sobs into the space between them in pleasure. He’s bigger than the fingers Abe’s practiced with, pressing on the back of his tongue and hot, so fucking hot, so good Abe feels the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes because this is happening, it’s really happening, and the pain of Mihashi’s tug on the crown of his head lets him know that this isn’t just another dream.

He releases Mihashi’s hip and pulls out his own erection, thumbing the tip and using his precum to slick the pumps of his hand. He moves his hand from Mihashi’s cock and instead grabs his thigh, pulling and encouraging Mihashi to just fuck his mouth. He does, starting with hesitant movements and picking up until Abe feels the drool running from the corner of his mouth, his tongue working against the underside of Mihashi’s cock and his cheeks hollowing as he tries to make it as tight and good for his pitcher as he can. His own body hums in pleasure with each throb he can taste on his tongue, fire raging in his body at the thought that each whimper and hiccup of pleasure he hears from Mihashi’s bruised mouth is because of him. He could probably get off just to sucking Mihashi, he thinks, but right now he just wants to finish, he wants to come because of Mihashi, wants Mihashi to come because of him, and then he’s sucking and swallowing each rapid, shallow flick of Mihashi’s hips until there’s a catch in Mihashi’s breathing, what probably was his name, and thick shots of semen in his mouth and on his lips. He can’t swallow it all, and his own orgasm almost causes him to choke as he inhales a sharp breath and finishes all over the dugout floor, but Mihashi pulls his cock out of Abe’s mouth just in time for him to gasp in a needed breath.

Mihashi slumps forward, falling to his knees in front of Abe, his hands shaking where they remain in Abe’s dark hair. Abe wipes his mouth with the back of his arm, then clutches Mihashi to him, both of them heaving with exertion like they’d just finished a ten hour practice. Abe feels the shivers racking his body as well, and he can’t stop them no matter how he tries, no matter how much he smothers his face in the corner of Mihashi’s neck and shoulder, and then he feels the tears from earlier finally spill out because it had finally happened, he’d finally reached Mihashi. 

The hands in his hair relax and begin to pet gently again, and Abe sniffles as he realizes that Mihashi is trying to comfort him. He takes in a ragged breath, clears a throat that’s a little sore from being fucked raw, and then presses a gentle kiss to the skin on Mihashi’s shoulder beneath his lips. He finally looks up out over the baseball diamond, out to where the sun has finally set and darkness surrounds them in their secret moment.

Mihashi mumbles something against his throat, but it’s unintelligible. With a jagged breath, Abe straightens his spine and pulls Mihashi away enough so that they can lock eyes, and Abe sees the same mix of embarrassment and fulfillment that’s swirling in his gut on Mihashi’s face. “I said,” Mihashi repeats when prompted, “that… we should… together…“

“Together?” Abe says, watching as Mihashi nods eagerly.

“Yeah! Since, since we’re going to the same school…”

Understanding strikes, and in this moment Abe thinks he could probably cry again out of happiness. “You want to get an apartment together?” he deciphers, and Mihashi probably almost breaks his neck with how hard he nods. His eyes are wide and hopeful, and Abe finds himself greatly amused by the fact that there was a place in Mihashi’s mind where he thought Abe could possibly say no. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

Abe chokes as Mihashi clutches his strong pitcher arms around his neck in a tight embrace, but it’s worth it to hear Mihashi start babbling excitedly about what kind of apartment they were going to get and how they’d have to go pick out a mattress that weekend because there was a sale, and many more things Abe didn’t get to hear because he suddenly remembered they were both  _very_ indecently dressed if one of their other teammates came by for the same nostalgia that had brought them there. 

**Author's Note:**

> Do you have any idea how many other fics I'm going to write for the projected domestic continuation to this fic? Do you have any idea? Do you? Do y


End file.
